my hands aren't that great for holding.
For starters,
they're constantly ice cold to the touch
from anxiety,
as if ghosts have my palms in a death grip;
they don't take kindly to sharing.
And my fingertips are callused and rough from the ukulele.
It's a bit small for my hands,
and I'm only just good enough to string along a few lullabies,
but their dissonance is lost on my tone-deaf ears,
anyway.
And my hands are always all covered
in ink or paint,
and I'm scared
that if I touched you,
you'd be tainted as well.
And so I just thought you should know.